Pain 100Themes
by Neural Misfit
Summary: 40K/HH One-Shot "She knew. She knew before they came to get her. ... He had to wake up. He couldn’t leave her. Wake up." The Angel's death affected them all, but for one person, it was the single most devastating news of her life. R&R.


**4. Pain****  
Hundred Themes Challenge****  
Arcadia-Sama  
Genre - Warhammer 40,000/Horus Heresy**

**Disclaimer - **Only the concept of the Consorts belongs to me. Everything else is Games Workshop's. But hey, if I owned Sanguinius, I'd.. Well, let's not go there, shall we? ;)

**Author Notes - **First off, this is for those fluff fanatics. Yes, this is non-fluffical. Yes, I know this never actually happened in the actual 'verse. Despite that, I refuse to mark this as AU. Second, this is one of my 100ThemesChallenge entries for dA. Pick a theme, work with it. This is what came out of the "Pain" theme.

I'm rather proud of it.

* * *

She knew.

She knew before they came to get her.

Anael didn't recognize this man who was clad in the colors of the First Captain of the Legion. Perhaps he was new. Likely, he was new for she had seen so many of her battle-brothers fall to the heretics that she was shocked to see any familiar faces at all. But she had been staring out the window of her chambers in the Palace Holy, having been kept safe in the deepest confines of the Palace. How she had raged against being bound in safety when her brothers had seen fighting and battle.

She had watched the fighting, wearing her battle armor that gleamed the red of blood in matching hues with the warriors that entered her room, her long hair tied back into a braid that pulled her scalp so tightly that it brought tears to her eyes and made them appear slanted. The helmet she wore with her armor was set nearby on a table and she turned to face the warriors, eyes calm despite the news she knew they were bringing her. How dare he. How dare he! For a moment, there was a brief, inexplicable dash of anger but it vanished in the calm void she had surrounded herself with, distancing herself from her body and then, before the Captain could speak, she spoke first.

".. take me to him."

There was no hesitation for an order from her carried the weight of their beloved lord and she walked with them, not noticing their strides shortened to match the pace of hers. Though she was tall for a woman, unusually so!, the slender woman still stood shorter then they. But the movement through the Palace Holy was quickened for a moment and then as they came to the sepulchral tombs that were used to house the wounded and the dying and the dead. More then one of her brothers was within, yet she did not seem to see them.

Her legs were leaden. Her heart seemed to slow, almost stopping and the only thing keeping her upright was Balaius' hand upon her arm as they led her towards a doorway.

She stepped through it.

At first, it almost looked like he was asleep. How many times had she lain awake in his arms, watching him sleep, wondering not for the first time at how she never wanted for anything except to remain by his side. There would be no more nights of laying on his chest, listening to his hearts beating in her ear, of his lungs filling and emptying, causing her to rise and fall. Never again would she be lifted in his arms and borne aloft with him. She approached and then, suddenly detesting her armor, ripped her gauntlets off, not caring that she was throwing them to the side and slowly, one slender hand lifted and she reached towards him, not noticing the Apothecaries watching her with pity in their eyes, the medics making no move to stop her.

He had always made her feel small. How he had laughed the first time she had told him that. Not at her. But at the way she'd said it, full of frustration. But he hadn't cared, he said. So she had learned to accept it. But he'd helped her grow. His laugh. Why was she thinking of his laugh now? Then, her hand came in contact with his face and it was cold. Distantly, she heard herself speaking, telling him to wake up. His hands were folded over the hilt of his broken sword, covering a wound that had been made through his chest. She recognized that charred flesh. He had to wake up. He couldn't leave her. Wake up.

She even slapped him, not hard, but a gesture that had always woken him up before. He wasn't waking up. Her legs buckled and she grabbed onto his arm to steady herself.. and she was staring at that wound now. It was true, wasn't it? It was a silent thing, her breaking, but she broke and there was only pain and forevermore would there be pain, no matter what, until her days were ended.


End file.
